Miserable at Best
by reka1207
Summary: Animated oneshot. Post 'This is Why I Hate Machines'. Shockwave accessed memories that were not his. His body wanted more. It'd had enough loneliness for several lifetimes, and that was finally taking its toll. Very onesided Shockwave/Arcee.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Transformers Animated or any related characters.

Note: this doesn't have anything to do with my other post-Endgame oneshots.

Title: Miserable At Best

Pairing: _Very _onesided Shockwave/Arcee

Omega Supreme, the Moon.

Data Retrieval: 59 percent.

Shockwave had been alone for countless stellar cycles; he himself couldn't recall the last time he had spoken truthfully to another Decepticon save his leader.

The loneliness had become commonplace in some ways, intolerable in most.

Shockwave accessed memories that were not his. He saw in his own processor, another life, a time when he had been younger. He was not in any of the memories, but the locations, even some of the younglings were familiar.

He was no expert in higher functions of the processor – every action he made was from documents he had stolen from the medcenter. They were purely hypothetical.

As he delved further into the processor of the Autobot femme, the documents became less detailed and more a play of guesswork and devotions to either Primus or Unicron. Shockwave felt the strangest sense of guilt as he found a memory of a smiling green mech, the kiss, and the goodbye.

He had not recharged in almost half a decacycle. His actions became clouded in his processor – everything felt like he was in a haze.

Data Retrieval: 70 percent.

The haze temporarily lifted as her optic opened, illogical as it was, Shockwave dared to hope the memories had come back automatically.

As her optics switched on, he changed back into Longarm. After all, Longarm was an Autobot, she wouldn't feel overly threatened, she shouldn't know the mech.

"Longarm?" she paused. "Is that you?"

Faster than he could react, she stood and pressed her lips against his. He fought off the simultaneous impulses to kill the Autobot and lean deeper into the kiss. Shockwave broke it off and pulled the wires out of her helm. She fell back, limp and offline to the world.

Unicron. Now he was going to have to boot her up again. The thought sent his mind back into the haze.

"It's in there somewhere…"

As he searched deeper into Arcee's life, the illogical feeling of guilt spread. Shockwave felt his spark wrench when her optics opened, not seeing him or the ship, but an ancient battlefield. If her vocaliser hadn't been offline, her screams would have woken all the other bots.

That green bot showed up more and more frequently. Shockwave was now impatient to finish the job and…not have to see her again.

Shockwave finally realized he wasn't feeling the aching sensation of loneliness. Instead, the longing for companionship had been replaced with this guilt, anger, and to some extent, longing for _more_.

Shockwave thought, as he stored away another memory of another battle. Loneliness was preferable to this turmoil of emotion.

Data Retrieval: 85 percent.

He allowed himself a thirty-cycle recharge as memories took him to the place that must certainly be the underground fortress where the Autobot had received the codes. He was so close…so close to finishing what had been the goal of hundreds of stellar cycles worth of planning and preparation.

It would work. This plan _had _to. The fate of the Decepticons rested in the servos of a Decepticon and in the processor of an Autobot.

His dreams were affected by the lack of his normal emotions. They became erratic, fragments of the war, some memories were his, some were not.

He awoke, and felt less rested than before, with a massive processor ache to boot.

He began again. Her memories had become more muted, a safety mechanism had gone into place.

But this one was bright, painful to remember. It mutely screamed out with loud vocalizations, colors. The grays and browns became brighter.

Shockwave hadn't understood what it had been about.

He understood even less as the Autobot looked for comfort in a mech who was _not _him.

Her body was warm against his as she sobbed silently. He had lowered his great height to better work on her processor, and he felt her arms around his neck. The wires that connected the Autobot to the ship sparked. She wasn't supposed to be conscious, if this nightmare she was trapped in was conscious.

Also unconsciously, one arm wrapped around her waist. Shockwave could almost hear whatever she was saying.

He wanted it to end, yet he wasn't sure what 'it' was. Was it the embrace, the memories, the job itself?

All of it, his overworked processor screamed at his spark, his body.

His body wanted more. It'd had enough loneliness for several lifetimes, and that was finally taking its toll.

His spark ached for someone who wouldn't look past him like he was invisible.

His processor told him that was a good thing.

He wanted, didn't want. Wanted, didn't want.

Shockwave's processor struggled to compromise.

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, the processor won over. Shockwave regained control of himself. He removed his arm and removed hers as well. He got back to work, processor aching worse than before.

The next memory was the one he'd been looking for. The codes scrolled in front of him. They were still there. If they hadn't, Megatron would've killed either him or the Autobot.

Shockwave didn't want to die. And now, his spark didn't want the Autobot to die.

Data Retrieval: 94 percent.

The next part would be to try and repair the connection between her processor's memories, and her conscious actions. Then her vocaliser.

Neurological paths led him straight to the correct station. It was far simpler than sorting through every memory she'd ever had.

Her vocaliser was harder. It required actual, physical work on her body.

His processor fought not to do…whatever his spark wanted to do.

It was barely fifteen cycles of work, yet they stretched out seemingly eternally.

Finally, it was done. The Autobot was repaired – the only thing left to do was to completely power her up and see if the data retrieval worked.

Data Retrieval: 99.5 percent.

"It's in there, somewhere…"


End file.
